Day 7 – I Got Fucking Stranded In An Orange Grove After Running/Walking 36 Fucking Miles In Portugal.

Calories in

Calories out

Deficit

2,222

6,000+

3,778+

Yesterday I did an ultramarathon when I had only planned to run out past Vilamoura and then get a train home. I ran 22 miles, jogged/walked 6.2 more and then did another 8 in the fucking dark in the orange groves by my hotel.

I had advance warning of feral dogs from Joe Cowley on Facebook in the area I was running to so I bought some decoy meat to stop them if they came near.

It was a really bad idea. I had dogs barking at me the entire fucking time and it took me ages to realise that the dogs were likely barking BECAUSE of the meat. Meat attracts dogs. If I don’t know this at the age of 33, I never will.

I tried to follow the Ecovia path as long as I could but lost it just after Quinta Do Logo. That’s when shit hit the fan really. I hadn’t anticipated staying out past sundown and I’d lost my way, so I had to speed up and try to find a way to the nearest town with a train station, which was Faro.

It was at least 10 miles away at the time and I’d only an hour to get there.

By this point I was getting some serious verbal GBH off all the security dogs in the area so I started barking back at them. Eventually I just threw the meat over a fence to one annoying little fucker in particular.

I don’t like dogs anymore. They are either sycophantic fuckwits when they are with their owners or full on fucking annoying little Nazis in fur.

It got tiring to listen to them so I started shouting back to them.

“Your mother’s a whore and your granny’s even worse!”

It was the only way to keep sane.

I stopped running about 6 miles from Faro as I’d mistakenly found my way onto a motorway, so I had to slide my way down this path into the small town beside it.

I ran/walked the next 10km into Faro and caught the train back to Albufeira.

I thought I was finished for the evening.

I left myself with an easy 3.5 mile walk/run back to the hotel using the Go to Saved Location facility on the Fenix 3 but it went totally fucking tits up.

I took a turn down this country path and it got narrower and darker as I went along it. I started to panic. My watch was telling me to run in a direction that was obscured completely with trees and I couldn’t see my way back to the path.

With the last 7% in my phone battery, I installed a flashlight app and used it to try to power my way out. 7% quickly dropped to 3% and then it went out within a minute. It was horrific. I ended up sliding arse first down this embankment and thought about a spot of wild camping but I was worried that the feral dogs would show up and without any meat to placate them they’d chow down on my fat fucking head.

After half an hour of this I started weeping like a fanny and screamed “HELP!” to try to get the attention of the farmer. It was frustrating being so close to my bed but it might as well have been a 1,000 miles away as I didn’t know what direction to go in to escape.

Out of desperation I took one of the oranges off the tree, peeled it and then just fucking stuffed it in my cake hole expecting it to taste revolting. It was beautiful and I think it saved me.

I could hear a dog in the distance and knew that if I headed towards it I’d be back to the start of the farm. I made it out and found the right road back to the hotel and got it in by 11:50pm which gave me just enough time to keep my blog streak alive.

Today is going to be a rest day. I’ve already eaten 3,000 calories to make up for yesterday. I couldn’t find any places open that did food near my hotel so I had to wait until today.

Pretty huge deficit there and that’s going by a conservative estimate of calories burned…